The Stowaway Solution
by E. Edwin
Summary: Scotty rushes to contain the damage caused by a botched iridium purchase before it destroys the ship. Meanwhile, Spock is recovering from a bout of flu, and Bones is displeased with the equipment in sickbay. Just another day on the Enterprise. A little story just for fun.
1. Chapter 1

McCoy had just started the bi-monthly equipment checkup when the sickbay doors swished open. He put down the hypospray that had just been tested, and turned around with a glare for the approaching Vulcan.

"I s'ppose you think you're better again."

Spock predictably raised an eyebrow. "I anticipated your reaction, Doctor. However, it is illogical to assume that since I was ill this morning I must still be ill." Spock climbed onto a biobed and flicked it on. "This time," he continued, "I assure you that my symptoms have all but subsided and I am ready to return to active duty."

"Kind of like how you were ready for active duty this morning? When your sinuses were so clogged up that crewmen clear to engineering could hear you breathing? When you were still running a significant fever?" McCoy came over to the biobed and pulled out the auxiliary scanner, taking a few additional readings of Spock's respiratory system.

"No Doctor," Spock with the tiniest hint of impatience in his voice, "as you can see, my temperature has returned to normal." Spock gestured at the appropriate number on the panel above him, reading it upside down.

McCoy scoffed. "Arethian flu does a lot more than raise your temperature, Mister Spock. An' when you keep traipsing all across the ship and into sickbay to try to convince me you're better, you just infect other people and–"

"There have been no additional reports of Arethian flu since I contracted it four days ago; I assure you I'm very careful–"

"Careful not to sneeze all over uninfected crewmembers? You sneezed all over Ensign Kyles last night! Thank goodness he's already had it. And I told you not to be reading ship reports! You're supposed to be resting."

"I can rest and read simultaneously."

"No you can't. You get that big Vulcan brain of yours all fired up and it'll hog energy that's supposed t'be for your immune system. Sleep or meditate. Don't come to sickbay every few hours or you'll really never get better."

McCoy examined at the readings. Irritatingly, Spock's symptoms had actually subsided. Respiratory inflammation was down; temperature was nearly normal; lymphatic system activity was still elevated, but that was to be expected. McCoy sighed. He was unsure whether it was a sigh of annoyance that Spock defied all models of good patient behavior and still managed to get better, or a sigh of relief that Spock would stop being underfoot. "Well Spock," he said, "much to my surprise, you do seem to be much better. Nice enjoyable bed rest really does wonders, don't it?" McCoy grinned. Spock glared.

"Thank you for your confirmation of my health, Doctor. I will return to duty." Spock was off the biobed and half-way to the door before –

"Hold it. Come back here. Si'down, mister." McCoy pulled out a hypospray. "Here's a mild pain reliever. You'll probably still have muscle aches for a day or so, and will be lethargic. Arethian flu throws your digestive system all outta wack, so extra liquids for the next three days, and take it easy on the spicy food. Come back at the end of the week for a checkup, and we'll see if your blood chemistry is all back to its usual Vulcan perfection."

"As you wish, Doctor." He sat still as McCoy administered the hypospray. "You mentioned I would be lethargic; would a stimulant be appropriate?"

"Short-term, yes. Long-term, no." McCoy said. He hated prescribing stimulants. "You need to take it a bit slow. Ease back into your normal activity level over several days."

Spock's usually neutral facial expression twitched in such a way that it was clear that 'taking it easy' wasn't on his to-do list. "We're purchasing iridium at Taurus II tomorrow, and my services are needed."

McCoy smiled. "Well lucky for you, you're staying on the ship tomorrow. No stimulant required."

"Doctor. Iridium mining is notorious for its high variance in ore quality. It is essential that I perform an inspection before our purchase. Besides, isn't 'fresh air and sunshine' essential for recovery?"

McCoy put away the hypospray and started in on the paperwork. "There isn't any fresh air on Taurus II, Spock. And Scotty is just as capable of holding a tricorder as you are. Besides, Arethian flu is highly contagious, and Taurus II has never been exposed. I'm not taking any chances. Arethian flu is nothing to sneeze about."

Spock stared at McCoy for a moment. "Considering that Arethian flu involves a great deal of sneezing, I assume that your previous statement was humorous."

McCoy grinned. "Very good Mister Spock." He pressed submit on his PADD. "You're all cleared for on-ship active duty."

Instead of bounding off the biobed, Spock remained seated. "Thank you for your analysis, Doctor. Tomorrow, I will remain on the bridge and monitor the Enterprise's standard orbit." He straightened his cuffs.

McCoy felt almost bad for the Vulcan. Almost. Not quite. "You could always come down here and fix the faucets," McCoy suggested.

"It was my understanding that they were replaced just last month."

"Yeah, but the damn things always start leaking within the first two weeks, it's the most annoying thing," McCoy muttered. He grabbed the next hypospray to continue the inventory.

"I do not believe I have time to fix your faucets." Spock said.

"Even though you have nothing to do? Ah, whatever." McCoy waved him off. "Never mind. No one has time," he said gloomily.

Spock was about to leave when McCoy spotted a new box of medical supplies, and suddenly an idea hit him. "Oi, Spock. One more thing." McCoy pulled off the packaging and opened the vial. He shook one of the tiny, seed-shaped devices onto his palm. "Know what this is, Spock?"

Spock inspected the tiny object. "A sub-dermal bio-sensor," he announced at last.

"That's cheatin' you looked at the package." McCoy thought he saw what might have been a smirk on Spock's face, but when he looked again his expression had returned to neutral. "But yes, that's right," McCoy continued. "It's the latest version. This thing'll track everything: your heart rate, your blood pressure, and everything you'd ever want to know about your blood chemistry. It has an accelerometer, and can communicate with the ship's sensors to track every step that you take. Now you don't get sick very often. Might be interestin' for you to watch yourself get better over the next few days. Track your progress?"

Spock's eyebrow was all the way up in the 'Christmas has come early' zone of his forehead. "Fascinating, Doctor. Personal, continuous bio-statistics. That would indeed be interesting." Spock considered for a moment. "How do I access the data?"

"You can rig it to download to a PADD in real time. I'll send you the manual. Now where did I put the injector… let's get this thing under your skin."

McCoy wandered into the back room, muttering about leaky faucets and bad organization. Spock seated himself on the biobed, awaiting his new toy.

* * *

**A/N:** Star Trek is very good at taking things from everyday life and putting them in a new context, so that we can better understand them. This is a little Christmas present-inspired story that does just that: give the crew of the _Enterprise_ a fitness tracker, a fancy grill, a leaky faucet, and an ant problem and see what happens. There is also some amount of plot, I promise!

There are five chapters, and they're all written. I'll post them gradually over the next week as I get the last of the typos out.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please review. Thanks for reading! :)


	2. Chapter 2

The barstool groaned and wobbled dangerously as Kirk began to shift his weight off of his tired feet and onto the faded cushion. Mid-sit, mid-groan, and mid-wobble, Kirk decided it wasn't the stool for him. He disentangled himself from the rickety chair with as much swagger as possible, and gingerly tried the adjacent stool. Minimal noise – acceptable. Kirk relaxed. He ordered dinner and a drink.

Taurus II was not a leisure planet. It was a very large rock covered with mining equipment, an atmosphere with more sulfur than was pleasant, and not much else. The away team had spent most of the morning trekking between small mountains of refined iridium selecting one that was a good quality for the price. The afternoon had been dedicated to organizing transport and decontamination for the ore. By evening, Kirk declared himself off-duty and decided to visit the only eatery in the area, one that misleadingly (or perhaps wishfully) translated to _The Blue Beach Cafe_. Kirk glanced over his shoulder at the patrons. They looked uniformly haggard and grimy. Not a beach crowd. It wasn't quite a café either, more of a dive.

"Bit o' a long day, eh Captain?"

"That about covers it Scotty. Ah! Don't sit there. Try this one."

Scotty settled down and placed his order. "Jennings and Waters are shuttling the last few batches up to the ship. They'll come and collect us when 'ey finish."

Kirk nodded. "That was a good price we got today. But maybe next time we decide to buy ore straight from the supplier we could pick a mining colony that's not quite so hot and smelly."

"Aye." Scotty wiped his brow. "But now as we've got a bit o' experience inspectin' the ore we'll know what to look for next time 'round."

They discussed other mining colonies they might pass by when they next needed supplies. Then they returned to their drinks.

Their plates of food arrived in clouds of mouth-watering steam. Kirk chose to attack his meatloaf first, while Scotty started in on the roasted carrots. After his first bite, Scotty sighed. "Aaah, this is real food this is. Not that fake, rubbery, synthesized stuff they feed us in the galley."

Kirk nodded vigorously in agreement while he chewed. After a moment he was able to talk again. "It's a real pity there isn't enough room on the _Enterprise_ for hydroponics."

"Or for a meat culture lab!" Scotty said. "You know, I had one of those portable grills in me room – put a steak on, with a bit o' oil and there you have it! A hearty dinner, that is."

"You don't have it anymore?" Kirk asked.

"Aye, I still have it, but I donna use it. Cooking synthesized meat is as tasty as synthesizing cooked meat." Scotty declared. "Besides, that thing was tiny. An' ye had to change out the little butane container every five minutes."

Kirk nodded. "You know, that reminds me: when I was promoted to captain, Admiral Forest promised he'd buy me a fancy grill. When we were in space dock last he finally came through. It must still be in the cargo bay somewhere. It can hook up to the plasma relays for ease of use."

Scotty raised his eyebrows and put down his fork. "Really? What's the model?"

Kirk swirled his drink around. "It's the Summit S-670."

Scotty gasped. "No! That's the newest o' the Genesis series, from Weber?"

"That's right."

"With da one-touch cleaning system?"

"Yep"

"And the double-ring side burner?"

"Uh-huh."

"And the exhaust tube that ye can hook up to an outgoing air vent, so that your cabin stays nice an' fresh?"

"That's the one." Kirk said cheerfully.

"And you're letting that beautiful prince o' the grills sit in the cargo bay?" Scotty said incredulously.

"Well…" Kirk didn't want to use a hypospanner by himself. "You've been busy, and I wouldn't want to install an appliance that interfaces with so many ship systems without a consultation with my Chief Engineer."

"I'll take a look." Scotty assured him, draining the last of his drink. "C'mon. Our next planet stop is four days away. Let's see if they make any meat on this pile o' rock so that we can have ourselves a grill night."

Kirk agreed. They finished their dinners, and together exited _The Blue Beach Cafe_.

* * *

**A/N:** Even after quite a few edits, I still think there's something off about this chapter. It's weird, and short. On the bright side, the next chapter is more than twice as long, and it'll be up in couple days.

(I love it when I get reviews, especially if someone could be a genius and figure out what's funky about this chapter, but I try not to beg for reviews... MUST NOT BEG for reviews...)


	3. Chapter 3

Uhura rather enjoyed annotating the ship's audio communications log. She had been halfway through when her shift ended last night, and now she opted for a brief breakfast in the galley before making her way to the bridge and taking her usual place. Uhura resumed listening to the chatter with Taurus II, marking events as she went. She marked when the Enterprise had been cleared for standard orbit. She marked each of Kirk's communications from the surface. She had noticed something oddly familiar about the dialect of the communications contact at the iridium refinery, and so she marked that too. It seemed almost… Andorian in influence.

Beep.

Uhura almost jumped at the unexpected noise coming from Spock's station. She paused the log for a moment and glanced over at Spock. He stood from his seat upon hearing the beep, and seemed to be absorbed in some analysis. Odd, she thought, considering that they hadn't passed by anything interesting lately. Although he hadn't been on the bridge for more than a few minutes yesterday, despite the fact that she knew he was confined to the ship. Perhaps he was catching up with something. Uhura shook her head and went back to annotation.

She brought the logs up to date, and listened again to a few snippets from the communications officer, making additional notes. Keeping records easily accessible was key to developing a good ear. She browsed her notes, trying to find hints of his dialect in other speakers she'd encountered. She mused over the sounds. Not quite Andorian, then…

Beep.

Upon hearing the sound, Spock sat back down. Uhura took out her earpiece and gave him a good solid glare. Spock was still busily working at his station, and didn't seem to notice. Sulu had also glanced over at the Vulcan. He met Uhura's eye, and shrugged. Uhura suddenly wondered if Sulu had been listening to the beeping before she arrived for her shift.

A moment later, the turbolift doors opened and the Captain stepped onto the bridge. He had a PADD in his hand; freshly combed hair; and an alertness about his eyes and a spring in his step that comes from a cup of coffee.

Beep.

Spock stood up.

Kirk relaxed into his seat, oblivious to the noise, and glanced around with a good morning nod for the members of his bridge crew. He was met with less enthusiasm than usual. Spock did not look over. Uhura gave him an exasperated nod. Kirk frowned at her expression, but glanced at the status panel on his armrest and then returned to his PADD. Scotty had helped him install the Summit S-670 last night, and they would have a chance to test the new device for dinner. An excellent incentive to get his reading done early, while the bridge was quiet. Kirk settled in, and was absorbed with a report (regarding unusual activity around the Klingon border) when –

Beep.

Kirk glanced over. Spock sat down. Uhura narrowed her eyes. _What_ was he doing? She couldn't quite think of a way to ask. She put down her earpiece, and decided to do something else – anything else – anything that didn't involve careful listening. She sat for a moment, trying to come up with something to do.

It occurred to Uhura that it was rather warm. She shifted in her seat. The flu was going around, maybe she had it? She sniffed experimentally and cleared her throat. Nothing. Since everyone who had had the flu was coughing, sneezing, and nauseous before their temperature rose, that was out. Uhura tapped her screen to bring up the environmental panel for the bridge. It was 24 C, four degrees above the usual temperature.

"Mister Spock, is there something wrong with the environmental controls?" she inquired.

"No lieutenant," he said. "I have adjusted –"

Beep.

Spock stood. "I am performing an experiment and have adjusted the temperature."

Sulu spoke up, a look of long-suffering on his face. "An experiment that involves sitting, standing, beeping, _and_ changing the temperature? For an hour?"

Kirk put down his PADD and looked on with interest.

"That is correct, Lieutenant." Spock said.

"Oh?" said Kirk, pleasantly. "What's the experiment?"

"After my recent illness the Doctor saw fit to provide me with a sub-dermal bio sensor, so that I might better study my recovery. Yesterday, I created a framework with which to analyze the data provided by this device. I also performed a number of calibration and base-line experiments. Today, as Mister Sulu has noted," he nodded in the Lieutenant's direction, "I am performing a follow-up test in which I measure changes as compared to yesterday in my maximal oxygen consumption rate, VO2. This is accomplished by alternating between a seated and a standing position in timed intervals."

Spock received three blank stares from Kirk, Uhura, and Sulu.

Beep.

Spock sat.

"So you've become a health nut," Kirk summarized.

"On the contrary, Captain." Spock raised an eyebrow and employed his most innocent voice. "I am merely attempting to better understand my own physiology through a series of self-administered experiments."

Sulu was still confused. "And the temperature changes?"

Spock nodded. "In addition to measuring an improvement in my maximum VO2, there are a number of other variables I can investigate with this test. For instance, I can observe my heart rate and blood pressure response to minute changes in physical exertion. I expect that the response will be magnified when temperature is increased. I am gradually raising the temperature by 2 C every four time intervals in order to test this hypothesis."

"And how warm is it going to get, Spock?" Uhura asked.

"Only to 28 C," Spock assured her. "I am aware that humans are accustomed to lower temperatures than are Vulcans."

"Mighty considerate of you," Sulu grumbled.

Kirk frowned. He could see that Sulu and Uhura were annoyed, and it was getting quite warm. "Spock," he said, "your efforts are commendable, but I believe that these experiments might be better performed elsewhere. Sickbay, perhaps? Where more monitoring technology is available?"

"Ah, but Captain, these experiments are all the more fascinating because of their use of –"

Beep. Spock stood. "– portable technology."

"Aren't you concerned that your readings will be affected by talking to us?" Sulu tried.

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "I have indeed considered that, and I believe I will be able to compensate."

Uhura was about to brainstorm sources of error that would be present only on the bridge, when there was a whistle from Kirk's controls. He punched the button. "Kirk here."

"Captain," came Scotty's voice, "we've a bit o' a problem down in engineerin'. Looks like that iridium made it through decon with some stowaways."

"I'll send Spock down," Kirk said, and ended the transmission. "I hate to interrupt your experiment, but you'd better see what Scotty wants."

The Vulcan nodded, and made his way toward the turbolift. However, much to everyone's surprise, he removed the Jeffries tube cover from the floor in front of the turbolift and proceeded to descend the ladder beneath.

Kirk and Uhura exchanged a look. "Spock!" Kirk said. "_What_ are you doing?"

Spock's head reappeared, his eyebrows raised in a look of surprise at the Captain's question. "On my way to engineering, I will be documenting my lactic response to vertical descent," he said. He pulled the cover back in place, and disappeared from view.

There was a moment of silence on the bridge, as everyone stared at the Jeffries tube cover. Then Kirk smacked the comm button. "Bones! What the devil have you done to my science officer?"

"My God Jim, I don't know what to do with him!" McCoy's tortured voice came over the speakers. "One minute I'm showing him how to download his data, and the next he's sprinting down C Deck in two-minute intervals! The day after he recovers, mind! I have access to the data as well, and he keeps asking for an 'impartial analysis' of the last three minutes data, or of the last six hours of data, or of aggregate data since I gave him the damn thing! The next thing you know he'll be controlling his own heart rate and using it to send me messages in Morse code!"

Kirk sighed, and raked a hand through his hair, destroying its freshly-combed appearance. "Calm down Bones."

"The man is a green-blooded, pointy-eared data menace!"

"Alright Bones, I hear you. Look, you only intended for him to observe his return to health using the device, right? You'll just need to take it away from him once he's recovered."

"It's implanted _under his skin_." McCoy said. "Getting it away from him might be difficult." A long, static-filled sigh could be heard over the comm. McCoy continued. "Have you ever arm-wrestled a Vulcan?" Puzzled looks were exchanged on the Bridge at this non sequitur. "I have," the Doctor said. "Several times. Spock said he was tracking his muscle function during recovery. Never mind that the result will be damn near identical every time: Spock would win even if he was still sneezing his dual-lidded eyeballs out."

Kirk pursed his lips. "I'll talk to him."

"Please do," McCoy said. "Let me know how that goes."

"Will do." Kirk ended the communication. Uhura gave him a sympathetic look. "As you were," Kirk said. She swiveled back around, and returned to her work.

Kirk glanced at his PADD briefly, and realized that the Klingon border would wait. He needed to think of an argument to take care of Spock.

* * *

**A/N:** There's a particular, unnamed person I know who has a Fitbit and drives everyone nuts with it: you're on a walk with him and he's constantly fiddling with it so that he can properly 'time his laps,' or some such thing. I imagine Spock would be even more annoying.

Anyway, I hope this chapter wasn't too slow. I think McCoy's comments at the end turned out pretty well.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! I really love the feedback.


	4. Chapter 4

Yesterday, when Scotty first noticed the lone ant wandering away from his makeshift ore processing station, he gave the poor lost fellow a smile and a squash. He tisked at the decon settings and put the ore through another, stronger thermal decon cycle, and resumed work.

Perhaps these particular ants were immune to temperatures of up to 120 C. Perhaps other ants had escaped from the ore sample before their more aggressive decontamination. Whatever the reason, it was clear to Scotty as soon as he arrived in engineering in the morning that somewhere they had gone wrong. Engineering was full of two things: ants, and chaos.

Instead of fabricating replacement plasma conduits with the iridium, the ore was still unmolded and abandoned. Instead, his engineers were running about, stomping on ants, flicking ants off of themselves, and scratching big red welts that sprung up from the nasty ant bites. Nothing seemed to get rid of them. Ensign Duncan tried spraying them with standard-issue insecticide. The liquid simply beaded around the ants; as she kept spraying the droplets joined together and coalesced into a pool of repellant, which the ants calmly marched through on their way into the ductwork. Midshipman Freeman tried containing the ants with a ring of boric acid, to no avail. After some research in the ship's database, Lieutenant Commander Morgan declared that calcium carbonate was the answer. It was not.

To make matters worse, these ants seemed to have unusual tastes. They were systematically dismantling the plastic sheath on every wire they could find, causing shorts and small fires throughout engineering.

Scotty cringed away from a cascade of sparks and stumbled backward. "Bring that fire extinguisher over here Ensign!" he called. "I'm shutting down the control panels on this deck. If ye want to do some fiddlin' use a wireless display!"

"Ouch!" Ensign Duncan said, flicking an ant off of her leg. She hobbled over to the damaged panel, which was no longer sparking, but gave it a spray with the fire extinguisher just for good measure.

The only effective method they had yet discovered for killing the insects was physical force. Scotty was bent over at the waist, cloth in hand, manually smashing and wiping ants off of his floor. "Let's try an adhesive! Mister Morgan, get some o' that fastbond liquid adhesive gel and ring 'em in!"

"Yes sir! Ahh!" Morgan opened the supply panel and a swarm of ants came forth around his feet.

It was at this moment that Spock arrived. He coolly surveyed the chaos. "Mister Scott?"

Scotty stood up and whipped around. "Ah Mister Spock," he said, "we have a bit o' a problem. What took yeh so long?" Spock quirked an eyebrow. "Oh never mind. We need ter get rid o' these stowaways, and fast. They're causin' damage to our systems."

Spock began pacing. "Have you employed the usual insect repellants?"

"Aye." Scotty said. He watched as Lieutenant Commander Morgan enclosed a circle free of ants on the floor with a line of adhesive, then stepped inside. Almost immediately, a few ants made their way toward the glistening line to investigate. "We've moved on to more non-traditional solutions."

Spock produced a vial from his pocket, and stopped his pacing just long enough to lean down and gather some ants in the container. He sealed the lid. "Fascinating."

"They're not fascinating; they're damn obnoxious," Ensign Duncan said, blasting another shower of sparks with the fire extinguisher.

"In any case, I will perform some experiments on these."

"Thank ye, Mister Spock." Scotty said, watching Spock's departure. "Ouch!"

* * *

It had been a very long day, Kirk decided. He stared at the smoldering remains of the Summit S-670 grill and realized that the piercing noise of the fire alarm was going to give him a headache. Systems had been on and off all day because of the ant infestation, and just after lunch the _Enterprise_ had dropped out of warp, her containment systems too unreliable to go on. Kirk had decided to take a break from supervising the chaos to try out his new grill, but even that was doomed to failure. He wearily set the fire extinguisher down on the floor, and poked at the steak on the grill with his tongs. It was charred, covered with orange fire repellant powder, and looked significantly less appetizing than it had looked just moments ago. Two ants were quickly approaching it across the long expanse of the grill's metal rods.

"What the devil did you set on fire?" McCoy said, appearing in his doorway.

"My brand-new grill," Kirk said. "And I didn't set it on fire. Blame the ants." Kirk turned off the fire alarm.

McCoy relaxed against the doorframe as soon as he saw that the fire was out. "Those little buggers are everywhere. Lucky for sickbay we have plenty of leaky faucets to dribble out all of our fires."

"Sarcasm won't get your sinks replaced, Bones."

"Where's the fire, Captain?" Scotty rushed in, a fire extinguisher in hand. He was sporting angry welts on his hands, his pants were covered with various debris, and he was coated in a light dusting of fire repellant powder. There was a manic spark in his eye that was even more frightening when displayed under orange-tinted eyebrows.

"It was the grill, Scotty, but it's out now."

"Not the grill!" he moaned, setting down the fire extinguisher and pulling a towel out from his back pocket. The two ants had finally found the smoldering steak, and Scotty crushed them with the towel. "Now we're back to eating in the galley."

"Food is the least of our problems, Mister Scott. These insects are a danger to the ship! How many fires have you put out today?"

"I lost count, Captain."

"Get rid of them! Top priority: kill the ants." Kirk ordered.

"That seems to be proving rather difficult, Jim." McCoy said. "They're immune to every poison we know of that is lethal to insects but not to humans. And they really have a knack for coordinated behavior. Engineering's resident ant hive could self-assemble itself into the shape of this grill if it had a mind to."

"Evil little creatures." Scotty muttered. "When you surround them with adhesive they create bridges with the bodies of 'eir brethren. It's disgusting."

"They stay far away from my sinks, though," McCoy said cheerfully. "So if we could just flood the entire ship that'd take care of it!" He paused. Then he leaned toward Kirk and said in near-whisper, "you wanna know how I found out that they can drown?"

"Yes, your faucets, I know Bones!" Kirk glared at him. McCoy chuckled. "Gentlemen, let's work on a more viable solution to our pest problem."

McCoy shrugged and went back to lounging against the doorframe. "Spock is systematically going through the chemical database. Somethin'll turn up."

"Where is Spock, anyway?" Scotty said.

Just then, Spock rounded the corner. "Good evening," he said. "I take it the fire has been contained."

"What took you so long, Spock?" McCoy asked. "The alarm went off a good five minutes ago."

"I began walking immediately upon hearing the alarm," Spock replied.

"Yes, but that doesn't answer the question," Kirk said. "It's hard to find a place on this entire ship that's more than three minutes away."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Captain, you are only considering the shortest possible route between here, and other locations on the ship."

"You took the long way around to respond to a fire alarm?" McCoy said incredulously.

Kirk waved McCoy down impatiently. "What path, exactly, did you take, Spock?"

"Upon hearing the alarm, I exited the Jeffries tube I was in onto forward E deck. I walked to aft E deck, and ascended the aft access chute to aft D deck. I walked to forward D deck, and arrived here."

"So you traipsed back and forth across the ship two extra times." McCoy summarized. "Let me guess, you were doing an experiment?"

"That is correct, Doctor." Spock said. "I would appreciate your assistance analyzing the results."

"There's no time for that now, Spock," Kirk said firmly. "In fact, don't access your data until the bugs are dead, and that's an order. Today we lost warp, tomorrow we could lose impulse if we don't get this situation under control. Understood?"

His command was met with three affirmative grunts.

"Alright." Kirk said. He surveyed the room and decided to clean up later. "I will grab something in the galley and then find another fire extinguisher. Gentlemen. Back to work."

* * *

**A/N:** The final chapter will be posted soon, people! Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think; please do review.


	5. Chapter 5

Kirk knelt, squeeze bottle in hand, and carefully drew a ring of blue liquid around the captain's chair on the bridge. He inspected his work, touching up the line in one spot that was marred with a bubble, then cautiously sat down so as not to disturb the ring. Kirk rubbed his hands together, careful to leave the soothing paste over the bites.

Kirk turned to Spock, Scotty, and McCoy, who were similarly protecting the paneling on the bridge. "So Spock, what made you think of using detergent?"

The Vulcan turned around slowly, and spoke as if he was choosing his words carefully. "The use of dish soap was a common home remedy for containing ant populations on twenty-first century Earth. After observing the robustness this particular species of ant, we began by testing modern, highly toxic pesticides, completely neglecting more simplistic solutions."

"So you pulled out a history book in the middle o' a crisis, eh Spock?" Scotty said, grinning.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "There is much that can be learned from the citizens of the twenty-first century."

"Actually Captain," McCoy said, "we should have figured it out sooner. Remember how the ants were avoiding the sinks in sickbay? Turns out it (for once) wasn't because of my leaky faucets. It was because certain detergents severely cripple their pheromone production system."

"So we should be ant-free soon?" Kirk asked.

"They are dying 'in droves,' using the Doctor's verbiage." Spock reported.

"Then all we need to do is wash the blue footprints off the decks without suffocating in bubbles," the Doctor joked.

"I've equipped each crew member with a bottle o' detergent," Scotty said. "Warp power will be back in a few hours, just as soon as we finish a few wiring replacements."

"Excellent, Mister Scott!" Kirk said. "And Spock, you must be excited for the last of the ants to die – it means you can resume your experiments."

"No need Captain." Spock said.

"Oh?"

"I have come to the following conclusion. There was an advantage to be gained by understanding my own physiology. However, this advantage was negated by the fact that my performance was reduced with the added work load of analyzing the data."

McCoy sighed in relief. "That is a very wise observation. I'll remove the bio-sensor at your convenience."

"Oh no, Doctor," Spock said. "I have merely decided to offload the task of analyzing my data to a computer. I have devised a machine learning algorithm that should be capable of impartial data analysis." Spock returned to his squeeze bottle. McCoy raised his eyes to heaven.

"You know, Captain," Scotty said, "once the ants are all taken care o' I was thinking o' breaking out that tiny little grill I had. Care to join me for a bit o' a grill night?"

"That sounds lovely Scotty! I'll bring my fire extinguisher."

They chuckled. "Doctor, Spock, you would be welcome t' join us," Scotty said.

"I'll be there, Mister Scott." McCoy said.

"Although I will not partake of the meat, I would be interested in hearing your observations about the difference in taste of synthesized food," Spock said. "I will also attend."

"We'll throw on some tomatoes for you. It will be very healthy." McCoy said.

"And now the question is, do synthesized grilled tomatoes taste the same as grilled synthesized tomatoes?" Kirk said. The three humans chuckled.

"I would assume that they do not." Spock said.

"Well, lucky you: you'll get to do an experiment and find out." McCoy said.

Spock raised an eyebrow, and his eyes glittered at the new idea. "Fascinating," he muttered. His mind swarmed with a whole new set of experiments that should be performed.

"Doctor!" Scotty said. "Look, you got him started again! We'll never have a meal in peace!"

"Woops," McCoy said. "Hey Spock," he continued, "I'm just going to put it out there right now: I'm a doctor, not a gourmet."

Kirk grinned. He set down his squeeze bottle, accidentally smearing bug-bite paste on his controls. "And as a Doctor you deserve faucets that don't leak."

"Oh good. Can I have them replaced finally? Let's not get that brand again."

"No, no we're not replacing them," Kirk said. "Starfleet would never buy that. No, it will be Mister Scott's next assignment to fix your faucets."

Scotty's face fell. "But Captain…"

"No arguments, please." Kirk raised a hand to stop the complaints. "We can't be wasting water."

"I'll get to that just as soon as warp is back online." Scotty said.

"When will that be?" asked McCoy.

"Uhh." Scotty said. "Might be a bit o' time…"

"I thought you said it'd be a few hours!" McCoy said.

Kirk smirked. "Do I have impulse now?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Mister Sulu," Kirk said, dabbing bug-bite paste off of his command console. "Resume original course and heading. Full impulse."

* * *

**A/N:** All done! Awww so cute. I really hope my ability to write dialoge is improving, because there sure is a lot of it.

I hope you enjoyed; thanks for reading! (I love reviews.)


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